


vital breath

by newt_scamander



Category: Psych
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Barebacking, Blood, Blood Drinking, Blood Kink, M/M, Shassie, Vampire Sex, Vampires, interview with a vampire inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2019-06-10 18:09:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15297117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newt_scamander/pseuds/newt_scamander
Summary: Carlton Lassiter has wandered the earth for two centuries looking for his paramour. Shawn Spencer has been looking around corners and down alleys for someone he can hang out with. They each find their query in each other.





	vital breath

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kybercrystalheart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kybercrystalheart/gifts).



> this is the first psych fic i've finished and also vampires? good shit. 
> 
> i wanted to write vampires boning and me and the gf are into psych so i just smashed them together. 
> 
> for the gf, obvs.

Abandoned on the stoop of a Catholic Church, wrapped in the most threadbare of green cloaks, Carlton Lassiter did not have the most charmed beginning. He owed his miserable life to the Church, to the Pope, to the Holy Mother. He performed his duty and gave his gratitude as a server, an acolyte, and finally a diaconate before he fell out of favor with the Church and found himself abandoned once more. He wandered the cobblestone streets and tried to shelter himself against the rain that seemed to come from his very soul. He fell against the outside of a crypt and resigned himself to the death that would give him peace first. 

As it was, he slowly came to the realization that the one stroke of luck he was to have in his life had been that which had saved him in infancy. He had the misfortune of being in the path of one afflicted with the blood curse. He tried to feign death, lying as still as he could but the cold one was smarter than he and dropped his own blood onto Carlton’s lips. He didn’t want to taste it but he had no choice, it was in his mouth, in his throat and it was the first warm thing he’d had since Christmas so even as it reviled him, he craved it. He grabbed at the wrist that offered him this, this second chance at life- though it would not be anything like his first chance. If his first twenty-four years had been the morning then his next two centuries would be the evening. Dark hours always lasted longer than those that were blessed with light. 

Life was easier now, in the twenty-first century. He had spent his endless hours reading and learning, taking in all the information he could and relishing all that had been denied him in his chaste adolescence and celibate adulthood. He had never liked the communion wine and now he had no taste for it, but could easily stomach a scotch of his own concoction- infused with the blood of a man who had owned the brewery and had attempted to deny him his right to sleep in his guest bed. Truthfully, he hadn’t been planning on making the scotch- it had been a happy accident that the man happened to own a brewery and Carlton wasn’t going to let a perfectly good, aged scotch go to waste. He carried it in a flask like any good Irishman would and drank from it frequently. He knew not to let his thirst get the better of him. He didn’t mind this solitary life but he refused to subject others to endless darkness and immortality. He was comfortable, learning and growing as he saw fit. 

***

Shawn Spencer had flirted with men, women, disaster, and death by the time he was eighteen years old. He had backpacked across Europe and Asia and somehow made it home to Santa Barbara in one piece, in less than a year. He pitched a tent when he got tired and slept beneath the stars every night, the sound of the ocean lulling him to sleep and the sound of cormorants gently waking him. He liked it that way and he didn’t care if it never changed. Consistency is the enemy of humankind. Humans are restless and eager for change and dynamism. Shawn was familiar with the concept and used it as sort of a diagnosis for himself and others if they ever bothered asking. Still, even constant change can grow tiresome and predictable. 

Such feelings of predictability are what led Shawn to Elsie’s. It was an all-ages club in Santa Barbara and while he didn’t really have any trouble getting into clubs but tonight, he didn’t feel like flirting with the bouncer. He had to save his ‘cool guy points’ for making magic happen. He could feel it in the air. 

***

Carlton Lassiter frequented Elsie’s. It was exactly his type of club. It was much more familiar to him- it had a Victorian library type of ambiance and the hipsters that settled around him were more to his taste- literally. 

He looked around the darkened room, drinking from his flask as he waited for the perfect victim. He hadn’t fed in days and it had been longer since he’d had anyone. No one pretty enough. At least, no one had been pretty enough. Not until the truly prettiest boy he’d seen in centuries walked into Elsie’s lounge. He had a green wristband on- underage. Even better. Carlton stood up and walked over to him. He didn’t bother smooth talking him. He would be easy. 

“What’s your poison, sweetheart?” Carlton whispered, slinking an arm around the boy’s waist. 

Shawn grinned. Easy peasy. “Jack and coke. No. Peach margarita.” 

That would make his blood sticky sweet. Carlton ordered it for him, squeezing his waist.

Shawn pressed against him. “Thank you. A guy is hard pressed to come across a gentleman these days. What do I owe you?” 

“Company. A kind word.” Carlton said, passing the drink to Shawn who brought it to his lips and drank it eagerly. He knew drinking through the straw would get him drunk faster but he wanted to ride the train as far as it would go. 

“I have plenty of kind words and I have it on somewhat reliable credit that I am delightful company,” Shawn replied, finishing the drink. He grabbed onto his benefactor’s unfastened collar and pressed his lips to his throat. Freezing. Maybe it was the brain freeze. He didn’t mind. 

Carlton hadn’t met a boy so forward in months. It was refreshing and encouraging. It would be so easy. “Do you want to get out of here?” 

 

Shawn giggled. “Yes. Take me out. Take me home.” 

Carlton was a good Catholic boy. He didn’t have to be told twice. 

***

The cab ride home was quiet. Shawn didn’t see the need to make conversation when he was so busy trying to get his benefactor warmed up. He mouthed at his neck, moaning and groaning and grabbing. He didn’t want to waste any time. 

Carlton was pleased to see the boy’s fervor. “Don’t worry. I just need a bit of help. Can you help me?”

Shawn nodded eagerly. “Yes. Anything you need. Anything.” 

Carlton reached into his pocket and pulled out his lancet ring. He slipped it over his finger and pressed it against Shawn’s neck. Shawn sat stock still even as pain lanced through him. He’d never been great with blood but he was fairly certain that a good amount of people thought it was hot. He could handle it for a fun, one-time thing. Especially if this tall drink was into it. He leaned his head back, feeling the blood spill down his shirt and chest. Fuck. He was going to throw up. 

Then he felt Carlton’s mouth on his neck and he was drinking the blood and Shawn felt his heart beating faster and faster but he couldn’t deny how hard he was and suddenly he felt Carlton between his legs. Fuck, is that all he’d needed?

The cab stopped abruptly. “$15.17. No credit, cash only.” The driver said. Shawn leaned to look out the window as his benefactor forked over the money. A mansion? Not surprising. He hoped there was a bed. There would probably be a bed. He wanted to get his brain fucked out of him. Did that make him a slut? Probably. He didn’t care. He just wanted the man and he wanted him, now. 

Carlton grabbed Shawn and hauled him out of the cab, holding him close. “I didn’t catch your name. You can call me Lassiter.” 

“Shawn. My name is Shawn. Are you going to fuck me or not, Lassiter?” He was dizzy and drunk and desperate. 

“As soon as we get in that door,” Carlton said. “By your leave.” 

By your leave. Who was this guy? It didn’t matter. Shawn was in love. He stumbled up the steps, his heartbeat still thrumming in his ears. “Yes.” He whispered. “You have it.” 

Carlton opened the door and was immediately greeted with all the comforts of home. Candles were lit and the fire was roaring. It was warm. That would help. He closed the door behind him and fastened the chain. He stepped out of his boots, pulling Shawn close. “I’m going to fuck you.” 

“Please,” Shawn whispered. “I can help- if you need more.” 

Delightful. His meals were rarely so thoughtful. Carlton smiled, flashing his pointed cuspids. “How kind. You’ll find it makes everything much easier.” He admitted, pushing his pants down. 

Shawn got the idea, eagerly pulling his bloodstained clothes off and tossing them away. He leaned up on his toes and kissed Carlton hungrily. He could taste his own blood; he didn’t mind. 

Carlton unfastened the boy’s jeans and pulled them off. He wasn’t wearing underwear- that was a trend he had noticed. He didn’t care. It made things simpler. He held the naked boy in his arms and he could feel the life in him, the life that would soon be his. 

Carlton carried him up the spiral staircase and up to the bed. The french doors were wide open and he could smell the salt in the breeze. He put him on the bed and he immediately spread out, gripping the sheets and spreading his legs. It was divine. Carlton unbuttoned his own pants and crawled on top of him, kissing and mouthing at him. He found the opening from before and fitted his teeth to the slit, drinking him in. 

Shawn was euphoric. He twisted and writhed, grinding against Lassiter. He was desperate. Maybe he could handle blood. If it got Lassiter going like this, what could it hurt? 

Carlton felt the boy’s blood flowing through him. It felt good. It felt like being alive again, something he hadn’t experienced in years. This boy was good, this boy was different. He drank his fill, taking care to seal the wound. He wanted to keep him, he wanted to take care of him, he wanted to turn him into the perfect little feeder. He’d never seen the benefit but now, the taste of this boy’s blood sang to him. 

Shawn keened against Carlton. “You can take more. Take all of it. Please.” He whispered. 

“Later. You need to rest before I take any more. In the meantime-” He flipped Shawn over on the bed, spreading his legs. “Do you still want this?” 

This. What was this? Oh. Sex. Yes. Yes, he wanted it- he’d just been so distracted with the overall eroticism of Lassiter drinking his blood that he had forgotten. “Yes, I want it. Fuck me. Please. Please.” 

“Patience,” Lassiter said, reaching into the nightstand for lubricant. He slicked his fingers and spread Shawn’s legs, pushing his knee up to give himself a better angle. He wasted no time. He fingered him quickly but thoroughly, stretching and preparing him. 

Lassiter was deft and purposeful. Shawn usually didn’t bother- he liked the burn but he wasn’t going to complain. It felt good and he was eager for his full length but he was in no position to argue. He pressed against his fingers, eager to feel him- to a point. He writhed and wiggled and whined. “Enough. Enough. Get inside me.” 

Lassiter smirked. “It’s too late to ask but I have good manners. Are you partial to condoms?” 

“No. Fuck no. Just fuck me, I’m clean.” Shawn said. He wanted to feel him. 

“I assumed as much. You tasted clean.” Lassiter said, slicking himself liberally. 

Shawn shivered. Lassiter said he tasted clean. His blood tasted clean. He hadn’t just drunk his blood, he had tasted it. Fuck. Why did that make him feel so good? 

Lassiter pressed into him. He was tight and warm and wet and Carlton was reminded as to why he had been excommunicated and why it had been worth it. He grabbed Shawn’s shoulders and hauled him up, fucking into him harshly. 

Shawn was dead, or close to it. There was no way he could be permitted to live with this knowledge, that sex could be this good, that he could feel this way. He was living and dying with every stroke, every thrust breathing life into him. He was lost and found, overwhelmed and aching for more. He was a Caribbean island in the middle of a hurricane and it was too much. He reached back, struggling to breathe. “I’m gonna- I’m close.” He whispered. 

Lassiter grinned, pushing him down on the bed and fucking into him even harder. He wanted to time their releases as close together as he could. He gripped his hips, rocking and grinding against him. His cock twitched and he felt his release, it was right there-

Shawn cried out, coming all over the black sheets. He was shaking. He wanted to feel Lassiter inside him, to feel him leak down his legs. “Please,” he whispered weakly. 

That breathless plea was all it took for Lassiter to come inside him. His cock swelled and twitched and had no choice but to ride it out, holding Shawn up as he cried. 

He’d never felt so full. He wanted to keep him inside him forever. He’d never felt this. He was made for this. He was made for Lassiter to fuck and drink from him. It all made sense now. He couldn’t breathe but he had to breathe, he had to stay alive to fulfill his life’s purpose. He belonged to Lassiter. He had always belonged to him. 

Lassiter managed to detangle himself. He pulled out and used the stained top sheet to clean Shawn up. He tucked him into the duvet and tossed the sheet into the hamper. He climbed into the bed next to him and didn’t hesitate- cuddling Shawn felt natural and normal and correct. Shawn clung to him automatically. It was right. 

Dynamism did not have to be earth-shaking- it just happened to be for earth shaking, life changing for Carlton and Shawn. But not everyone is so fortunate.


End file.
